Debbie Macomber - Not Just For Christmas

This wasn’t supposed to happen. For a while, men in college were exempt, but with the war’s escalation, they were now included. Vaughn took the news well, but not Hassie. He had to do his part, he told her. It was too easy to pass the burden onto someone else. Citizenship came with a price tag.

Suddenly bombs were exploding all around her. Terrified, Hassie hid her head in her hands, certain she was about to die. Bullets whizzed past her and she gasped, her heart cramping with a terrible fear. All at once she was cold, colder than she could ever remember being, and then she was flat on her back with the sure knowledge that she’d been hit. The sky was an intense shade of blue, and she was simultaneously lying there and hovering far above. But when she looked down, it wasn’t her face she saw. It was the face of her dying son. His blood drained out of him with unstoppable speed as the frantic medic worked over him.

Her son, the child of her heart, was dying. He saw her and tried to smile, to tell her it was all right, but his eyes closed and he was gone. Her baby was forever gone.

A crushing load of grief weighed on Hassie’s heart. She cried out and, groaning, sat upright.

It was then she realized she’d fallen asleep. This had all been a dream. Awash with memories, she’d drifted into a dream so real she could hear the fading echoes of exploding ammunition as she dragged herself out of a past world and back to reality.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, her gaze darted from one familiar object to another. From the bedroom door where her housecoat hung on a hook to the dresser top with the silver mirror and brush set Jerry had given her on their tenth anniversary.

“Vaughn.” His name was a broken whisper, and she realized that she couldn’t remember what he looked like. His face, so well loved, refused to come. Strain as she might, she couldn’t see him. Panic descended, and she tossed aside the blankets and slid out of bed. It wasn’t her son’s image that filled her mind, but the face of another young man. Another Vaughn.

Vaughn Kyle.

“Of course,” she whispered, clutching the bedpost. Leaning against it, she heaved a deep, quivering sigh and climbed back into bed.

Wrapping the quilt around her, she tucked her arm beneath her pillow and closed her eyes. Yes, it made sense that she’d dream of Vaughn that night. Her Vaughn. It also made sense that it was Vaughn Kyle’s face she now saw. After all, she’d spent much of the day with him.

Barbara and Rick had done a good job raising him. Vaughn was a fine man, honest and genuine, sensitive yet forthright. She was grateful she’d had the opportunity to meet him before she died.

Giving him the gold watch had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was the one possession of Jerry’s she’d held back from Valerie and her two granddaughters. Valerie lived in Hawaii and although they were close, they rarely visited each other. Hassie had flown to the island once, but all those tourists and hordes of people had made her nervous. Not only that, she wasn’t comfortable in planes, and the long flight made her nervous. A few years back, after a scare with Hassie’s heart, Valerie had flown out to spend time with her, but had soon grown bored and restless.

Hassie didn’t think Val’s daughters, Alison and Charlotte, would have much interest in their grandfather’s watch. But it was precious to her, so she’d kept it.

She knew when she pressed the watch into Vaughn’s palm that this was the right thing to do. He looked as if he was about to argue with her, but he didn’t and she was glad. Still, his hesitation told her more clearly than any words that he understood the significance of her gift.

Warm once more, Hassie stretched out her legs, enjoying the feel of the sheets against her bare skin. She smiled, remembering the exchange she’d witnessed between Carrie and Vaughn Kyle last night. She hoped something came of it. After her divorce Carrie was understandably wary about relationships, but Hassie felt confident that Vaughn would never intentionally do anything to hurt her.

“Can’t something be done?” Carrie asked, pacing in front of Heath Quantrill’s polished wood desk. As the president of Buffalo Valley Bank, he just might know of some way to stop Value-X from moving into town. In the past day or so, news of the retailer’s plans had spread through town faster than an August brushfire. Carrie had first heard of it that morning. She suspected Hassie knew and had been protecting her; she also suspected there’d been rumors last night, but she’d been too involved with Vaughn to notice.

Heath’s frown darkened. It went without saying that he wasn’t any happier about this than she was. “I’m sorry, Carrie, but Ambrose Kohn is a difficult man to deal with. The town council has spoken to him several times. Hassie tried and I did, too, but he isn’t willing to listen.”

“You knew before this morning?” she fired back. “Hassie, too?” That was what she thought—and it explained a great deal. Hassie just hadn’t been herself lately, but every inquiry was met with denial.

Heath nodded.

“Doesn’t Mr. Kohn realize what he’s doing?” Carrie found it hard to believe he could be so callous toward the town.

“He knows all too well.”

“People have a right to know that the entire future of our town is at risk.” She could only imagine what would happen to her father’s store if Value-X set up shop.

Heath obviously agreed with her. “Hassie suggested we keep this under wraps until after Christmas, and the rest of the council decided to go along with her. I don’t know how the news leaked.” He scowled and rolled his gold pen between flat palms.

Delaying the bad news changed nothing. This morning at breakfast her father had announced what he’d learned. He was already alternating between depression and panic. He’d heard it from Joanie Wyatt at the treelighting ceremony. The Wyatts had sent away for stock information, and Joanie had read over a prospectus; she’d seen that Buffalo Valley was listed as a possible expansion site. She’d immediately phoned Buffalo Bob, who’d reluctantly confirmed it.

“Nothing’s been signed yet,” Heath said, as though that should make her feel better. It didn’t.

She glanced at her watch, wishing she had more time to get all this straight in her mind. Although she was eager to meet Vaughn at the Columbia Mall as promised, she wasn’t in the mood for Christmas activities. Not with this Value-X problem hanging over all their heads.

“Have you talked to anyone at the corporate office?” she asked.

Heath nodded.

“They weren’t interested in listening, were they?” Heath’s disheartened look was answer enough. “It’s progress, right?”

“Right,” Heath muttered. “Listen, I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes. I’m sorry, Carrie. I know what this will mean for your father’s business and Knight’s Pharmacy, too. I’m doing the best I can.”

“Can’t you buy the property yourself?”

“I approached Kohn about that, but …”

“He won’t sell it to you?” Carrie asked in an outraged voice.

“Let’s say he’d love a bidding war—one I’d be sure to lose.” Heath stood and retrieved his overcoat from a closet.

Her gaze pleaded with his. “You’ve got to find a way to keep Value-X out of Buffalo Valley.”

“Kohn hasn’t heard the last of this,” Heath promised as he escorted her out of the bank.

Carrie accompanied him to his four-wheel-drive vehicle.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, feeling the need to act.

Heath shook his head as he opened his car door. “Don’t worry, Carrie, this isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.”